


one summer night...

by startswithhope



Series: Summer Soft [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drunken Kissing, Falling In Love, Flirting, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Summer, soft summer prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24759295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startswithhope/pseuds/startswithhope
Summary: Three glimpses of time spent on the porch together on warm summer nights...
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Summer Soft [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790560
Comments: 34
Kudos: 208





	one summer night...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JessX2231](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessX2231/gifts).



> The fics in this series will all be from soft summer prompts I put out on my tumblr - [language-of-love](https://language-of-love.tumblr.com/). :)

Some hellbeast of a bug buzzes his ear and he flails wildly, both desperate to not have it touch his face and not actually make contact with whatever the hell that was. He doesn’t mind walking home from the store, in fact relishes the solitude of it, but these flying monstrosities inhabiting this town can fuck right off. **  
**

“Did you just have a stroke?”

“Oh jesus fuck!”

David feels a year of his life vanish into thin air, both from fright and sheer embarrassment as that disembodied voice takes form in a very amused Patrick Brewer sitting on Ray’s front porch.

“Sorry David, didn’t mean to startle you.”

Instead of responding, David holds his finger up as he takes a few steadying breaths, eyes narrowing as Patrick’s smile just grows wider. Why does he have to have a smile like that? And why are David’s lips nudging up to smile back? Enough of that.

“Does Ray know you’re loitering out here?”

“He does. But, point of fact, I’m not loitering. I live here.”

Wait, what? He’s known this man for weeks now and he’s just finding out that he lives with Ray?

“Really?”

“Yeah, I rent a room upstairs. Sorry, I just assume that everyone knows everything about everyone in this town, so I never mentioned it.”

“Hmm, okay, just...processing this new information over here.”

Patrick chuckles in that warm, rumbly way that he does and David’s rogue stomach does a little churn. He’s not sure what to do about his body’s growing awareness of this little business man that’s dropped into his life, so he does what he’s been doing for the past week and ignores it.

“While you’re processing, I’m gonna go grab a beer. Wanna join me for a drink?”

He doesn’t hold back the minor cringe at the word “beer”, which Patrick sees and probably misinterprets, so he quickly speaks before the wrong idea can be formed.

“Do you have any wine?”

Patrick’s smile is back immediately and he nods as he stands and heads inside, leaving David standing there completely unsure of what he’s doing. He can’t help his anxiety from bubbling up question after question into the front of his brain. What is this? What does this mean? Does it mean anything? Of course it doesn’t. This is Patrick. He’s not interested in David like that. Why would he be?

“Hey, can you…?"

David’s pulled from his anxiety spiral at the sound of Patrick’s voice to find him on the other side of the screen door, hands full with their drinks.

“Oh, yeah, let me,” David stutters, quickly pulling the door open so Patrick can step back outside.

“I figured you’d want something chilled, so I went with Chardonnay. I hope that’s okay?”

“It’ll do.”

Honestly, his standards where alcohol is concerned has sunk so low since living here that he’ll drink just about anything, except Mutt’s moonshine. That’s a mistake you only make once.

Patrick returns to his spot on the stair and David contemplates what to do. He could stand here, awkwardly, or risk doing permanent damage to his white denim. He’s not sure which is worse. So he has no real choice to throw caution to the wind and sits.

It’s just past dusk and the evening around them is growing darker, Ray’s porch light and the lights from the motel down the block illuminating the vast nothingness around them. It’s oddly calming in a way. He can hear Patrick’s fingernail picking at the label on his beer, making him realize just how close they’re actually sitting.

“I feel pretty stupid that I didn’t know you were living here until now,” he admits.

“Eh, I hadn’t supplied the information either, so I guess it’s on both of us.”

Oh...wait.

“So, when you offered up your place for me to stay during the whole...lice debacle,” he pauses, allowing the full body shudder to pass before continuing. “You were offering up what, Ray’s couch, or...your…?”

The chuckle Patrick releases gets caught in his throat a little and it comes out more like a cough and when David looks over at him, he’s pretty sure there’s a little redness coloring those pale cheeks. 

“I guess I hadn’t really thought that through.”

Hmm… Interesting. Or is it? David’s history of turning nothing into something is longer than a CVS receipt, so he’s mentally stopping that train of thought. Remembering his wine, he takes a long sip, cringes, and goes back in for another. It’s bad, but it’s cold and he likes the company.

“Luckily, that tragic chapter of our lives is over and we hopefully will never have to think about it again.”

“Cheers to that.”

Patrick tilts the neck of his beer towards him and David lifts his wine, smiling at the soft clink of glass against glass.

“So, Patrick, what else is there to know about you that I’ve neglected to learn?”

Patrick shrugs, but David spies his lips curving up a bit behind the mouth of his beer bottle, and yeah, that sparks some real curiosity about this man he’s obviously not given enough attention to. 

“Nothing much, really. I’m just, honestly, really happy to be working with you at the store. I’m enjoying the challenge…”

“I’m a challenge?” David interrupts, his incredulous expression marred by his inability to fully wipe away his smile.

“The store is a challenge, David. You’re…”

He falls quiet and David arches an eyebrow, lifting his free hand to motion for Patrick to continue. 

“I don’t know. You’re...you. I’ve never met anyone like you before, and I...I like that, I guess? I never know what you’re gonna say or do next, so yeah, maybe you’re a bit of a challenge, too. But a good one.”

David’s a bit dumbstruck. He’s never had someone say those things to him in a way that wasn’t an admonishment before. It’s an unsteadying feeling.

“I’m glad to have made an impression,” he says quietly, quick to hide his face behind his wine glass and his feelings under another long sip that ends up draining his glass.

Patrick notices, because of course he does. He’s rather attentive.

“Want another glass?” he asks, and David’s thrown off again by Patrick’s open expression of hopefulness. But he’s going to head home. Another glass will lower inhibitions and the wall he’s constructed around his heart to stop himself from getting hurt by nice guys like this. Patrick won’t mean to hurt him when it happens, so it’s best to keep things professional.

“Thanks, but I’m good.” Standing quickly, he waits for Patrick to stand with him, but he doesn’t. He just sits there, his broad shoulder propped against the side of the porch rail, smiling up at him in that genuine way that he’s mastered. He holds out his hand and for a second David freezes, unsure as to what he’s doing, but thankfully, quickly registers he’s offering to take David’s wine glass. Their fingers brush a little and the tiny hairs on David’s neck prickle his skin, but he’ll just pretend that it's from the warm summer breeze that’s surrounded them like a blanket. 

It’s gotten a tad bit too cozy on this porch.

David’s a few steps away when he hears Patrick call out to him.

“Goodnight David.”

Smiling softly, he wiggles his fingers in a small wave before turning back towards the motel.

“Night Patrick.”

* * *

The scratch of Patrick’s calloused thumb against the side of his neck feels so good that he can feel his body leaning in closer, pressing Patrick’s back harder against the porch rail as his moan of appreciation vibrates against their joined lips. Patrick’s free hand anchored in David’s back pocket clenches and their kiss goes molten, both of them delving deeper as if their mouths are performing all the things their bodies want, but aren’t currently able. The porch light is out, casting them in blissful darkness, masking roaming hands and stubble chafed skin, but David’s more than a little desperate to find some real privacy.

“When’s Ray getting home?” he pants into Patrick’s mouth, not giving him a chance to respond as he captures his lips again for another breathless kiss. He tastes of beer and pretzels from their short excursion to The Wobbly Elm, excusing themselves after only twenty minutes to go back out to the Rose Family car and fog up the windows, a move they will both be teased about forever by Stevie and Alexis who found them an hour later half dressed and dazed. 

“Soon,” Patrick manages to whimper, “very soon.” 

David has half a mind to drag Patrick inside and up to his room, but they’re both too worked up and he can’t emotionally handle Ray walking in on them, which he’ll inevitably do. It’s happened already. 

Twice.

So, he does the last thing he wants to do. Pulling his mouth free, he angles his head enough to let his forehead fall to meet Patrick’s, indulging himself for a moment in the exhilaration of hearing Patrick’s breath heaving just as hard as his own. God, it’s intoxicating being wanted. 

“You wanna sit for a while?” Patrick eventually asks and David answers with a tiny nod, made a bit awkward with their foreheads still pressed together. The laugh they share helps release a bit of the adrenaline and electricity, but David feels it spark anew when Patrick drags his hand into his lap as soon as they’ve sat down on the step. 

“Do you have plans Sunday night?”

“Who would I have plans with except you?”

“Stevie?”

“We don’t make plans.”

“Right,” Patrick says with a smile, “well, I do, so can you add an overnight date with me to your very busy schedule?”

David’s smile widens at Patrick’s ears going pink, his inability to hide his blush even when he’s being assertive one of his most adorable qualities.

“Okay, but I can’t do Stevie’s again. Now that I know that she’s still sleeping with Jake, it’s all a little too...complicated.”

“Agreed. Some neutral ground would be ideal. Maybe one of the nicer hotels in Elmdale?”

David likes how that sounds. Leaning in, he runs the tip of his nose against Patrick’s temple so he can whisper softly into his ear.

“Somewhere with room service.”

“And late checkout,” Patrick agrees as he turns his head, quickly capturing David’s lips in a sneaky kiss. 

It’s only minutes later when Ray finds them, once again caught up, with David’s hand trapped behind Patrick’s head and the porch rail, mouths kiss bruised and fingers grazing skin beneath hems and collars. By some miracle, Ray’s on the phone and greets them with just a knowing smile and a wave, quickly disappearing inside, but leaving the inner door open and efficiently, and undoubtedly unintentionally, ending their private moment. 

Since they’re so close, Patrick walks him back to the motel, kissing him again against the door before mumbling “Goodnight David” against his cheek.

David’s “Night Patrick” is texted to him moments later, prompting Patrick to look back at him from down the street and blow him an exaggerated kiss.

* * *

The condensation from Patrick’s beer drips down onto David’s wrist and it makes him shiver, the cold water a welcome contrast to his overheated skin. It’s a hot night, still in the high eighties past 8 o’clock and humid, making his thin t-shirt stick to the sweat building at the small of his back and between his pecs. 

Stevie’s laugh precedes her as she pushes out onto their back porch, one hand clasping an overfull glass of red and the other holding the door open for Twyla following behind her. Twyla’s cut her hair so the warm summer breeze catches the now shoulder length strands as she smiles and sits cross legged against the porch rail, her sunny disposition a perfect match to the warmth radiating deep in David’s chest. 

“Is it almost ready?” Patrick asks, his words making his chest rumble and David’s body vibrate from how close they’re plastered together on their loveseat style lounger. As they’ve settled into their new home, they’ve created these little special places, like the oversized soaker tub and the breakfast nook that faces the morning sun. Knowing they didn’t need to make room for potential future kids allowed them to build their home around their family of two and it’s honestly more than David could have ever dreamed up.

“Needs another half hour or so,” Twyla responds, before launching into a long story about all the different models of ice cream maker she tried out before finding the perfect one to give David and Patrick as a wedding present. Of course, because she’s a millionaire, she chose the most expensive home model, which David has thanked her for countless times. 

“It’s definitely our most used wedding present,” he reminds her, which makes her smile.

“What about mine?” Stevie asks, each syllable dripping with her signature mix of boredom and sarcasm.

“You didn’t get us anything,” Patrick responds before David even has a chance.

“Incorrect. Need I remind you that it was only due to my meddling that the two of you even got together? And it was my apartment where you, you know,” she lets her words trail off as she nods pointedly. “And it was me who talked sense into you, David, when you wanted to drag Patrick to New York and leave me all alone.”

“Ah, yes, how could we forget. Thank you, Stevie, for your completely selfless gift of...um…”

“Friendship, David, the word you are looking for is friendship,” Stevie supplies, entirely too amused with herself. 

As she takes a few large gulps of her wine, David tries to think of a witty response. But Patrick turns his head in that moment and presses a soft kiss into David’s hair and his brain turns to absolute mush. So, Stevie wins this round, but he’s really okay with it. 

They do, eventually, eat some of Twyla’s ice cream, a delicious concoction of chocolate, pistachio and marshmallow swirl. Considering her disastrous attempts at edible smoothie recipes, she’s surprisingly good with her ice cream flavors. As the night goes on, Stevie gets more than a little tipsy, but so does David, and he laughs at his own slurred speech after saying goodbye from his now permanent spot on the loveseat.

“It’s a good thing Twyla stayed sober,” Patrick says from the patio door, the sound of his flip flops hitting the wood making David smile as he knows that means he’s coming back to sit with him again. Leaning his head back against the cushion, he focuses on the string of edison bulbs they have framing the overhang, made brighter now that Patrick has turned off the porch light.

“We should tell them to get an Uber next time. Twyla is a really entertaining drunk.”

Patrick’s warm body joins David’s on their loveseat and David lets out a happy grumble.

“So are you.” 

Patrick’s voice is soft and rumbly, his mouth hot against David’s temple as he slowly drops kisses on a path towards David’s mouth.

“I’m not drunk,” David protests, even though he knows he kind of is, but he also knows how much his husband loves it when he’s a little ornery. 

“Mmhmm…”

Patrick’s response is mumbled against David’s mouth, his hands greedily dragging David towards him by the back of his neck. David’s more than a little tipsy and he goes with it, welcoming the heady rush of desire mixing with the languid pull of the alcohol, making everything feel hazy and oh so good. 

He’s barely maneuvered himself onto Patrick’s lap before his sweaty shirt is being dragged over his head and all the privacy they finally have is taken full advantage of. 

Later, skin still pink from their shared shower and eyes closing against his cool pillowcase, David searches for Patrick’s hand between them on the mattress. It’s only when he has those familiar fingers, calloused from his guitar string, wrapped tight in his does he let himself fully drift off to sleep.

“Goodnight David,” he faintly registers hearing Patrick whisper.

“Night Patrick” he replies, or at least he thinks he does, but it could all just be a really amazing dream.


End file.
